


Sweeter Still

by CarolinaNadeau



Series: The Music Man: The Happily-Ever-After [19]
Category: The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson
Genre: Dancing together, F/M, Fireman's Ball, Fluff and Smut, Fluff with depth, Front hall flirting, Intimacy, Parlor passion, Pregnancy, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance via candy, Spooning, Trading Innuendos, smexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:39:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1471831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolinaNadeau/pseuds/CarolinaNadeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second year that Harold and Marian attend the Fireman's Ball, they no longer have to settle for stolen kisses and caramels to express their love and passion... The sequel to How Sweet It Is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweeter Still

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a direct sequel to "How Sweet It Is", so if you haven't read that one, well, you should probably read it first! Though I should warn that this story is rated E while that one is only a T, but I assume you can see the ratings anyway.
> 
> And thanks to Marianne Greenleaf for giving me the idea for this story! :D

_December 1912_

After a long day of exploring the city around their hotel, visiting various little shops and strolling through Des Moines' snow-covered parks – they had agreed that it might be nice to come back in the summer someday, when they would be able to enjoy the flowers and greenery – newlyweds Harold and Marian Hill had found their way to a small, romantic restaurant to have dinner.

The restaurant had been built quite recently, as its advertisements boasted, and after the new fashion, it had its own dance floor beside the dining area. Marian had been rather stunned to see such a thing, rather expecting that a public dance floor would be certain to attract either rowdy teenagers or highly unsavory characters, but neither had turned out to be the case here, and after they'd finished eating, she had eagerly accepted Harold's invitation to join him there for a little while.

"I have to admit, I was skeptical," Marian told him as they danced together, in a voice that she hoped was quiet enough not to attract attention. "I trust you not to steer me wrong, but there are those in River City who would have one believe that going dancing in the city, in a public place and among strangers, is one of the worst forms of sin!"

"There really isn't anything less than respectable about this particular establishment, at least," Harold affirmed. "But you're certain you're not uncomfortable, being here?"

The librarian smiled and shook her head. "I'm sorry to say that I'm not. In fact, I rather enjoy the novelty."

"Well, since we're here to celebrate a new life together, it makes sense that you should get to experience a few novelties, hm?"

She wasn't sure if Harold had intended this effect or not, but she couldn't keep herself from thinking of the _most_ wonderful novelty that had come along with marriage, and her heart nearly skipped a beat, color flooding to her face.

"Y – yes," she answered quietly.

Her husband looked back at her with warm understanding – and a hint of passion as well, enough to make the first stirrings of desire coil in her lower abdomen. Quickly, she averted her eyes, blushing even more deeply.

As they continued to dance together, though, Marian could not easily push those thoughts aside. In fact, they only seemed to occupy more and more of her mind, making her keenly aware of the heated energy that surrounded the two of them, especially when a song started that was a bit more slow and deliberate and that somehow seemed to express the excitement and tension between them right now. It was as if they were in a world unto themselves, each held captive by the other's unbroken gaze, breathing and moving and maybe even thinking in perfect rhythm.

They were not doing a thing that fell beyond the bounds of decorum, but every innocent touch seemed magnified until it was almost indecent in its sensuality; the mere brush of Harold's fingers against her wrist sent a tingling thrill through her from head to toe. She exhaled softly as his hips brushed ever so briefly against hers as he pulled her just a tad too close, closer than they would have dared to dance in River City – yes, there were people everywhere, but her body responded strongly anyway, heat rising to her skin and her breath catching in her throat.

As the minutes passed, she found that she could not even make a pretense of hiding her longing – she looked at his lips and imagined them moving against hers with ferocious hunger, felt his arms encircling her and imagined them holding her so much closer, imagined his hands finding her breasts and her backside and her _own_ hands hastily undoing his buttons so she could run her fingers across his broad, strong chest… all the sorts of things that were forbidden to them a mere three days ago but that they could now indulge in as much as they wanted to, which they were _going_ to do as soon as they could get back to their hotel room. And Marian suddenly found herself wishing that their room was only a few steps away from where they were standing, because she did not think she would ever manage to walk all the way back there in this state, her legs feeling like they might soon be trembling too much to carry her.

Before the song had even ended, the librarian and music professor stopped still amidst all the whirling couples, paralyzed by a wave of desire that they could only try desperately to hold back until they could reach some more appropriate place to ravish one another.

"Let's talk, sweetheart," Harold stammered when he found his voice at last, his breathing just as uneven as hers. He guided her off the dance floor and near the wall, where they could converse more privately, and Marian followed without protest, afraid of what she might say if she tried to speak aloud.

"Maybe this wasn't the best idea," he whispered against her ear, tugging her close with an arm around her waist. "I don't know if I can trust myself to dance with you in public right now."

"You'd – you'd rather dance in private, then?" she asked, and though she was trying to tease him, her voice grew unsteady at the implication of the kind of "dancing" that they were truly talking about – and the close proximity of Harold, ruggedly handsome and masculine and _wanting_ her, was not helping her composure in the least.

"That's exactly what I want." His voice was low and confident, his eyes even darker with the sudden urgency of his desire.

Marian felt almost feverish with longing, and she had to admit utter defeat against her carnal urges – as new as they were to her, they had a remarkable way of overpowering all objections, and knowing what would follow after she yielded to them made them simply too thrilling to resist. And there was not a single soul here who knew who they were or had any interest in their comings and goings, so, she reasoned, they were not at any risk of becoming the subject of rumors or gossip.

"It seems a shame to come here and stay such a short time, but… I'm ready to leave," she confessed at last, feeling delightfully brave and bold.

After that, Harold did not hesitate for a moment. "We could get a cab back to the hotel within minutes," he said, clearly having had that plan in mind for a while.

"Then let's go," Marian answered with a firm nod, letting him take her hand.

As they made their way out of the dining room, past all of the couples that were fortunately ignorant of why they were leaving and toward the doors that led to the snowy streets of Des Moines, the librarian did experience a brief moment of concern, but for the future, when they were back in River City and once again had to evade watchful eyes. She gave her husband's hand a little squeeze and turned to him with a shy smile, in truth more amused than bothered by the potential problem that had just occurred to her. "What do you think this means? Does it mean that we'll _never_ be able to trust ourselves to dance together in public now?"

The music professor gave her a sly grin, brimming with confidence and also a certain glee that the passionate side of their marriage was already proving to be even more wonderful than he'd ever hoped. "At the very least, it means that we ought to have an escape plan whenever we do."

xxx

_October 1913_

Though it had been rough going at first, Marian had recently come to the conclusion that she truly enjoyed being pregnant.

Their baby, her constant companion for the past five months, had finally grown big enough to make his or her presence known in a very direct manner. The librarian had felt the first unfamiliar flutters of the child's movement a couple of weeks ago while she lay in bed, trying to catch a few final moments of sleep before she had to get up for the day – and then the strange feeling of motion in her abdomen had rendered her wide awake, and she had awakened Harold immediately to share in her elation. It had almost been like learning she was pregnant all over again, because now, for the first time, she felt like she could undeniably believe that her child was _real_ , this mysterious, tiny being that she and Harold had brought to life, and she felt even more love for him or her than ever.

At this point, she was generally quite comfortable, which added to her overall contentment – the many complaints of early pregnancy had passed, and she had not yet increased nearly enough for the size of her belly or the baby to cause her pain or discomfort. Her main symptom now was a persistent, ravenous hunger – and not only for food.

While Harold was naturally cautious about making love so frequently to his pregnant wife, he had confessed that he found her more irresistible than ever in her current condition, both from the knowledge that she was carrying his child and from whatever intangible "glow" that pregnancy had apparently blessed her with. So, for the past couple months, Harold and Marian had been as utterly insatiable as they had been on their honeymoon – maybe even more so, now that they were so much more comfortable and confident in how to please each other. It was really a wonder that anything got done in the Hill household these days, when the smallest interaction between the two of them could lead to one of them kissing the other senseless and then much, much more.

Generally, in the earlier days of their marriage, Harold had initiated the vast majority of their trysts, and Marian had been perfectly okay with that – not only because being forward and taking the lead was a bit too nerve-wracking to do _too_ frequently, but also because Harold, with his ravenous carnal appetites, usually got there first anyway.

But now she found that she could not get enough of him, not ever. Some nights Marian woke up gasping from wildly vivid dreams of her husband making every sort of wanton, heated, wicked love to her that she could imagine, and she roused him from sleep in the most scandalous ways she knew so he could bring those dreams to life.

He could be doing hardly anything at all – reading the paper, maybe, or sounding out melodies on the piano – and she could be struck with the almost painful need for him right then and there, and sometimes she found it in herself to let him know just what she wanted, planting a bold, fearless kiss on his lips all while reaching right for his belt buckle.

She had even done what Harold had once confessed was one of his most favorite fantasies while never really expecting that she would enact it – she had seduced the professor right in his office at the Music Emporium at the end of a long day, taking his weary mind well off balancing ledgers and jotting down inventory numbers.

After any of these adventurous encounters were over, when the haze of passion cleared and she became fully aware of what she'd just done, she would blush furiously under the heat of his euphoric grin. But she was still pleased with herself, no matter how much her own behavior shocked her at times – to think that she did these things for her own hedonistic satisfaction was a disquieting thought, but when she saw how thoroughly elated this sudden increase in her ardor had made Harold, she could no longer find fault with herself.

Fortunately, Harold seemed to sense how precariously she was treading this new territory, as he refrained from teasing her too much about it – though, naturally, he could not resist expressing his wholehearted appreciation of her behavior from time to time.

One evening – after Marian had greeted him at the door with a hungry welcome-home kiss that had led them to the bedroom in short order – they lay sprawled in a pleasure-addled stupor, naked arms and legs all tangled together, when Harold remarked, "So, my dear, were you just waiting for me to come home so you could get me in bed? And just the sight of me was all it took to get you hot?"

He was clearly enjoying a certain boost to his ego from this thought, yet he was also gazing at her with genuine awe and adoration, which kept her from feeling _too_ self-conscious.

Even as her cheeks burned to hear him say such things, the librarian was still able to think of the perfect retort. "Say, I wonder if this is what it feels like to be you," she teased right back – inciting Harold to pull her beneath him and kiss her long and slow and deep until they were making love all over again.

xxx

As Marian stood at the entrance hall mirror putting the final touches on her appearance before they left to make their way to the Fireman's Ball, the second they would attend together, she couldn't help but reflect pleasantly on how different tonight's ball would be from last year's, their first and only dance as sweethearts.

This year, she was again wearing a new dress for the occasion, but for a very different reason, as she'd recently purchased an embroidered ivory and blue evening dress that would better accommodate her increasing figure during her pregnancy. The rounded bulge of her stomach was only subtly visible beneath the deep blue sash around her waist, but it was enough to draw attention to her – this visible proof of motherhood was bound to create interest in her condition among the ladies all over again. Still, she thought she could bear it in exchange for the overwhelming sense of maternal pride that she felt when she saw the telltale swell of her abdomen – her cheeks pinkened with sheer elation just to look at it.

When she heard Harold's footsteps coming down the stairs, the librarian quickly took one more moment to straighten her skirts and smooth her hair. "I'm sorry for making you wait. I'm ready to go whenever you are," she called over her shoulder.

"It's all right, I had to hunt around to find the right bowtie, anyway," the music professor called back.

She clucked her tongue at him in gentle disapproval. "If you'd only take my advice about putting your things in the same place every time…"

"Well, at least you didn't have me underfoot while you were trying to get ready," he countered. But as soon as he caught sight of her, Harold dropped the subject entirely, and Marian could soon see from his reflection in the mirror that he was very nearly devouring her with his eyes.

"Why, Madam Librarian, you're a vision of loveliness," he proclaimed as he arrived at her side. "And you know how much I love you in banana curls… it's certainly worth the time it takes." He ran a finger lightly along one of the coils of golden hair, seeming, as always, to be pleasantly fascinated by the way it all held together. " _Beautiful_."

She smiled, taking another look in the mirror at her handiwork. "I don't know if it's an appropriate hairstyle for a mother, but I suppose I'm a little too vain to think of giving it up just yet."

"I hope you never stop wearing it like this from time to time – you look breathtaking," Harold insisted, pulling her against him and dropping a series of languid, open-mouthed kisses along her neck until he reached her lips, which he at last covered eagerly with his own as he spun her around to face him.

It was not a long kiss, but so fiercely heated that they could barely stand to pull themselves apart afterward, their lips softly meeting and parting a few more times before the librarian finally remembered that they were standing in the front hallway, preparing to leave. It was hardly the time to get caught up in any canoodling, no matter how much they might want to do so.

"Careful, you'll – you'll muss up my hair or my dress," Marian exclaimed, laughing breathlessly as she disentangled herself from his arms and turned to the mirror again to run her fingers over her hair.

The music professor chuckled, leaning against the wall behind her with his arms folded. "That's true. When you've gone to the trouble of getting all dolled up like that, it's only fair if I at least give you a few hours before I tousle you up completely…"

"Likewise," she retorted archly, lest he forget that she was just as capable of such dishevelment – though she tried to hide the lustful little shiver that ran through her at the thought.

Yet her husband was relentless. Starting at the small of her back, he let his fingers trail all the way up the line of fasteners on her gown until he reached the nape of her neck, and she once again shivered helplessly when his fingertips finally found bare skin.

"I think what I like most about seeing you in a brand-new dress is imagining what it will be like to get you out of it for the first time," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her close and breathe in the scent of her soap and perfume.

His seductive teasing would have melted her at any time, but with the surge of ardor she'd been experiencing lately, it was almost unbearable. Marian drew in a sharp breath, needing to squeeze her eyes shut for a moment to regain control over herself. "Harold Hill, we're not going to make it through this dance if you keep carrying on that way."

He chuckled against her neck, the vibrations of his voice sending a tingling sensation along her skin that was only intensified by the words he spoke next. "Maybe that's what I'm hoping for."

xxx

Thankfully – though a bit disappointingly – Harold and Marian did not have to worry about being overwhelmed by their passion when they actually got to the Opera House, or at least, not at first.

As she'd predicted, the librarian found herself practically pounced upon by the ladies as soon as she'd left Harold's side for the briefest of moments. Now that the maternal curve of her belly was visible through her clothing, Marian felt like an object of curiosity whenever she was around any of the ladies. Her condition had already been public knowledge, but now it could be perceived even by those who did not know her very well, and even the ladies who already knew had their interest piqued by this development. Some chose to fawn over the librarian with endless talk of tiny clothes and the delirious joys of motherhood; others, less pleasantly, took the opportunity to grouse about the unpleasantness that they'd suffered during their own pregnancies, cynically reminding her that it wouldn't be so long before the lovely time she was having of it now dissolved into a nightmare of swollen ankles, constant backaches and near-immobility. Given the choice, Marian was much more comfortable with the attention of the fawning variety, but that didn't make it any less tiresome – not to mention that several of the more-enthusiastic ladies seemed to think it appropriate to lay their hands on her belly without any sort of invitation!

She fervently wished that her friend Nellie Appleton were there – the English teacher had already seen Marian several times since her belly had started to show, and either way, Nellie was perfectly capable of carrying on a conversation on more than that one subject. But Nellie's baby, Samuel, was still too young to spend much time out of his mother's company, so there was never any chance that she would be making an appearance at the ball tonight.

Thankfully, Marian was eventually able to escape, as there was also a good deal of excitement directed at the newly married Myrtle Toffelmier Britt, with the ladies waxing nostalgic about how she and her future husband Olin had first danced together at the Fireman's Ball the year before. Marian, now having been made privy to that whole story by Harold, was rather amused by the way the whole thing had worked out. Myrtle, endlessly grateful to Marcellus Washburn for being the one that had made her great romance possible, now regarded her brother-in-law with the same familial devotion that she would have showed her own brother, and there was not the slightest hint of distrust between them. It was strange how both of River City's reformed con men had managed not only to find a love of their own but also to play Cupid in some way for another couple, which Marian was reminded of when she saw Tommy and Zaneeta (who were more in love than ever this year and wistfully discussing the possibility of getting married after their graduation in the spring) domineering the dance floor yet again.

While some of the ladies were caught up in cooing over Myrtle's descriptions of her honeymoon tour back East – and, of course, they were already interrogating _her_ about her plans regarding children, poor lady! – Marian took the opportunity to excuse herself and tried to locate her husband as quickly as she could, before yet another well-meaning lady could keep her captive.

"Well, you're awfully popular tonight!" Harold exclaimed when they finally managed to find each other once again. "I don't suppose that it's because of the ladies' fascination with some book or another?"

"No, it's baby Hill who they are _truly_ excited to see this time." She rolled her eyes with a sardonic little smile. "Not that I don't love thinking and talking about our baby, but goodness, it's as if I'm having the same conversations again and again! We haven't gotten to dance together even once."

Taking her hand in his, the music professor let his fingers dance from her palm to her wrist and then up her forearm, leaving a trail of goosebumps along the way. "We had better change that, then."

He pulled her to the dance floor with him, and as they fell into step with the other dancing couples she happily settled into his arms, feeling wonderfully comfortable to be with the one person who understood her _without_ the need for endless words. Of course, part of what was so wonderful about their relationship was the way they could carry on the most wonderful, thought-provoking conversations, but it was only with Harold that those words came effortlessly and talking for hours did not feel like a burden in the least.

The two of them managed to enjoy themselves talking and laughing and dancing for quite a while before anything happened to remind Marian of that heated conversation earlier in the evening – but when it began, everything seemed to happen all at once.

She wasn't sure what had started it – maybe the brush of his fingertips over the nape of her neck, the same way he had done it earlier when he'd made her those fervent promises – but somehow, the mood between them changed, and they were no longer fully aware that they were still in public, dancing among all their friends and neighbors to music played on an outdated phonograph in a former barn they called the Opera House. There was something stirring between them, something familiar and powerful that they knew from experience that they could not resist for long.

When Harold whirled her around and she caught sight of the look in his eyes, Marian very nearly gasped. There was nothing lighthearted in that expression – she knew so very well what it meant, had been achingly familiar with that look ever since he'd first melted her with it on her front porch on the night he'd first convinced her to meet him at the footbridge. It was a look that indicated that he was barely holding himself back from kissing her – though nowadays, it meant more than kissing her. It meant that he was mere moments away from throwing caution and every other petty concern to the wind, crushing the length of her body against his, his skilled hands exploring every inch of her curves…

And here they were, in front of all of River City, while he looked at her _that_ way, and instead of getting her emotions under control Marian could only stare at him with undisguised longing in return.

Was he doing it on purpose? That question could be dismissed quickly enough – Harold Hill did not seduce by accident. But did he realize just how deeply he was affecting her, the way that the most intimate areas of her body responded to him in flagrant disregard of society's precepts? …And was he perhaps responding in much the same way?

It reminded her so much of that night in Des Moines, when they'd also found themselves seized by some irresistible erotic force in the midst of a crowded dance floor, and that memory only drove her further to distraction as images not only of the dance but of the aftermath filled her mind's eye. She had been right – they weren't going to make it through this night, not like this. Her body and her heart were simply unwilling to obey her rational mind for a single moment longer under the spell of Harold's intoxicating presence.

When the song ended, husband and wife were left breathless, staring at one another, barely noticing as another song began and the dancers around them began to move in a completely different pattern.

"I need a glass of water," Marian blurted gracelessly to stop herself from covering him with kisses right that instant, and she quickly turned on her heel and made her way over to the table where the pitchers were set up. Harold followed right behind her, so she poured a glass for him as well and then quickly gulped down her own, hoping that the cold water might restore some sense to her mind.

However, Harold's mere presence easily overpowered any efforts she made to resist him. After taking a long drink off his glass and setting it down, he pulled her close with an arm around her waist from behind and pressed a gentle kiss right behind her ear before whispering in a low, sensual tone: "Why don't we head home right now?"

Marian's eyes widened and she took a nervous step to the side to make the delicate nature of their conversation appear less conspicuous, her eyes searching frantically for anybody who might be looking in their direction – and though she saw none, her heart continued to beat erratically. Yet, despite her worries, she did not attempt to dismiss her husband's idea outright. "If we're going to, we can't draw any suspicion to ourselves – which means that you can't whisper in my ear like that!" she protested.

"No one will question a pregnant woman leaving a little early." He gave her a devious smile. "They'll just think that you wanted to go home and get to bed – and they won't be wrong."

"Harold!" she admonished, giving his hand a playful little pinch. "You mustn't say such things while we're in public! Besides, they _won't_ think that. I told everybody who asked that I feel completely fine these days, and that's the truth."

He shook his head, unwilling to let her fret about such minor concerns. "Doesn't matter. A pregnant woman could be subject to any number of sudden complaints. They won't question it. And most people here are either eating or talking or dancing, so it's not like they'll have any reason to stare at us as we leave. Just answer me honestly – do you want to go home?"

In truth, he had given her exactly the excuse that she needed – Marian knew that her pregnancy was her most prominent characteristic in the minds of many River City-ziens right now, _especially_ those ladies who would be most prone to gossip. And considering the tumult of desire rushing through her right now, as well as the memory of the things Harold had said to her before they left the house, she had neither the willpower nor the inclination to pass up this opportunity. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, the librarian gave a brief, decisive nod, letting out a shaky exhalation.

With level-headed confidence that was surprising, given his current state of mind, Harold took her hand in his own and walked with her around the perimeter of the room toward the door that led to the coatroom. Marian's heart was hammering in her chest, and she was certain that if anybody looked at her, they would somehow know exactly what she was thinking and feeling – but when her husband noticed that she was trying valiantly to avert her eyes from the guests lest they notice and glance back at her, he gave her hand a little pat and smiled at her reassuringly.

"Act as naturally as you can," he assured her in the very softest of stage whispers. "Nobody knows."

She smiled coyly at him in return, beginning to feel more excited than embarrassed as they finally reached the exit of the room – and it occurred to her then that he'd had this "escape plan" in mind for a very long time.

xxx

By the time that the front door of their Maple Street home closed behind them at last, Harold very nearly pinned her against it, grasping her hips and kissing her hard and deep – equally desperate to get closer to him, Marian hitched her leg around his waist, and she moaned softly as he ran his hand all the way up her leg to stroke the soft, bare skin of her thigh above her stocking, her lower body tightening as she anticipated that touch traveling just a little further up...

But Harold soon pulled back from their embrace, letting out a shaky breath, and the librarian, though disappointed, realized that he was simply taking her condition into consideration before shamelessly ravishing her up against the door.

His fingers shaking with the effort of restraining his desire, he gently caressed her cheek. "I've wanted to do that all evening, if anybody would have given me a moment alone with you."

As she pressed her hips back against his – not as easy as it once was, with her stomach between them, but still quite possible – she shivered a little as she felt how hard he already was for her. Excited, she undulated her hips against his even more purposefully, eliciting a shudder and a low groan from her husband. "This – you must have already been – like this even before we got in the door," she breathed.

He simply nodded in response, sweeping her into his arms and meeting her mouth ardently with his own as they made their way into the parlor and then tumbled onto the couch together, unwilling and perhaps unable to travel any farther before they began feverishly undressing each other.

"I could barely stand it, wanting you so badly and having to wait so long just to get you home," he confessed when he finally stopped kissing her long enough to breathe.

"Neither could I," sighed Marian. "If you had kissed me like you did last year – I don't know what would have happened."

He grinned at her as he slipped the sleeves of her new dress from her shoulders. "Oh, I do. We'd have run off into the trees together until we were sure nobody could see or hear, found some soft place on the ground, and gone wild on each other."

Marian was shocked to hear that he had such a swift and detailed response, and she sat straight up, eyes wide with surprise and mounting desire. "You'd thought about that, then."

A slightly apologetic expression passed over his handsome features, and he slowed down his ravishment of her somewhat, though he continued to slowly and steadily unlace her corset. "You _know_ I never would have dreamed of seducing you into such a thing. The pleasure would never have been worth the guilt and the fear we both would have felt, and I needed to watch you walk down the aisle on our wedding day and know that everything was right, was as it should be. But even knowing all of that, I wanted you _so_ much that I couldn't help imagining what it would be like if we just gave in... because I already knew that when we made love, it would be perfect."

Her heart raced as she revisited that night in her mind with this knowledge in mind. "Goodness. If I had known – "

"I know, darling, it was awful of me and I'm sorry – "

She placed her fingers over his lips to silence him, and her voice trembled a little as she spoke. "No. I wasn't going to say that. If I had known, I – I might have wanted that, too. Yes, if I'd been thinking clearly I would have known that it would have been terribly wrong, but I was scarcely thinking at all, and I just wanted you not to stop. Not that I was conscious of what I wanted after that, exactly… but when you made me feel that way just from kissing my neck, something _so_ wonderful that I felt it all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes, I knew that I wanted to keep feeling that way, to learn what other sorts of sensations you could awaken in me. I somehow knew that if you could have kept going, kissed down my shoulders, down my arms, across my collarbone – I didn't dare to imagine any lower than that – it would have only gotten better and better." She had continued to unbutton his shirt the entire time that she spoke, and now she demonstrated the kisses she was talking about as she described them, eliciting a series of pleased sighs from her husband. "It didn't quite scare me yet, the way it would later, because I still trusted myself to say _no_ before I would ever let us get carried away so far. But I was also becoming aware that that _no_ would have been... reluctant. Very much so."

When Marian finished her confession and drew back to assess his reaction, she was certain that she must have been blushing from head to toe, but she was happy to see that her music professor appeared both charmed and incredulous at her revelations. "I think it's _very_ fortunate that neither one of us knew what the other was thinking," he answered, his breathing unsteady. "Nowadays, knowing that you want me, too, is what makes you so impossible to resist – well, among many other things."

He pulled her in close again, kissing his way across the expanse of ivory skin he had already revealed just below her collarbone and finally undoing the last few fasteners on her dress. Easing her out of the dress and corset, Harold took a moment to ensure that the new gown ended up draped over the nearby armchair so it would not be damaged. As strange as it was, watching him be so considerate of her unspoken wishes brought on a rush of affection that somehow fanned the flames of her desire even more. When he rejoined her on the couch, she climbed up without hesitation to straddle him and press breathless kisses against his lips. In return, his hands eagerly cupped her breasts, which had grown not only fuller with pregnancy, but more sensitive as well – now that the soreness of the first few months had passed, even the feel of his fingers stroking her through the fabric of her camisole was almost unbearably wonderful, and she whimpered out his name as he grinned up at her.

"You know, dancing with you has always made me think like that," he said as he continued to caress her. "The first time we danced the Shipoopi together, all I wanted was for everyone to leave us alone right that minute. Seeing you in my arms right afterward, catching your breath and smiling like I'd never seen you smile before – oh, darling, if we'd been alone – "

"We'd have done what?" she asked, shamelessly baiting him on to say whatever he had in mind, no matter how scandalous.

His grin smoldering even more hotly than before, Harold tormented her by letting those thoughts go unspoken, even as his nimble fingers slipped the straps of her camisole down her arms and then began sliding up her legs to roll down her stockings.

"And last year, at the Fireman's Ball," he continued, "I wanted nothing more in the world than to take you home with me. I never would have done anything, of course, but I could hardly stop thinking about it – how much I needed to have you so much closer to me than decency would allow – and how soft and sweet and beautiful you are – " Despite his previous efforts to draw things out, he was undressing her more and more feverishly now, his hands desperate to stroke bare skin alone, and Marian found herself following suit, tugging his shirt off and tossing it carelessly aside. "Oh, Marian, I was out of my mind with wanting you. I promised myself – and you, though you didn't know it – that the next time that we danced together, we were going to have that glorious passionate night that I had imagined for us."

"And then the next time we danced together was our wedding day – and then three days later at that restaurant in Des Moines – so I'd say that you got your wish," she pointed out as she trailed her fingertips across his bare chest.

In response, he simply shrugged, a gleam in his eyes. "Yes – but that was a long time ago, and we've gotten even better at making love to each other since then, haven't we?"

Marian's heart fluttered in anticipation as she imagined all of the things that he might do to prove that assertion – or that _she_ might do. "Is that a challenge, Professor?"

The music professor laughed, raising his eyebrows at her. "I don't know if I would say it's a _challenge_ , but I certainly don't mind if you take it that way."

She felt a swell of daring confidence run through her, and she wrapped her arms tightly around Harold's waist, pressing every inch of her body flush against his so she could feel his heart beating right next to hers. "Well, I'd like to make sure you have the kind of night that you truly longed for after all of those dances," she announced in the most seductive tone she possessed, enjoying the unabashed thrill that lit up his face when she took the lead so brazenly.

As she kissed her way from his lips down his muscular chest and then down his abdomen, the librarian decided that she felt like demonstrating just how much she had learned since those passionate but unadventurous trysts in Des Moines – as well as taking some control back from him after he'd driven her mad with desire all evening long.

Slipping down so she was kneeling between his legs, she helped him out of his trousers and gave him a coy, meaningful look. Holding his gaze just long enough that he would understand her intentions perfectly, she watched his eyes widen in surprised elation, and then lowered her head to his lap to see just how wild she could drive him with her hands and mouth. The moment she took him in her mouth, Marian got exactly the response she'd expected and craved as Harold let out a low, impassioned groan and sank his fingers into her hair, eagerly surrendering to her expertise. She loved how the simplest flick of her tongue could render his entire body tense and perspiring; she loved knowing every intimate secret of his body so well that she could personally ensure that he was experiencing as much pleasure as his body could withstand. It didn't even matter that her own desire was only growing more and more keen as she watched him writhing in passion – concentrating entirely on bringing such bliss to the man she loved brought an erotic satisfaction of its own.

Marian rather expected that, as he often did, Harold would eventually urge her to stop what she was doing so that he could make love to her in the traditional sense, but he showed no sign of doing so tonight, even as his hands wove more tightly in her hair, utterly disheveling those curls that he loved so much, and he thrust his hips more desperately in rhythm with her caresses. More than willing to take this opportunity to coax him all the way to ecstasy, she employed every clever little trick he had ever taught her – or that she'd discovered on her own – until his moans of desperation finally turned to cries of rapture and he howled her name over and over, his body shaking in the aftermath of the release she had given him.

She climbed up next to him on the couch afterward and cuddled to his side, feeling a great deal of affection for him as well as a rather unseemly amount of pride in herself as she saw how long it was taking for him to regain his senses. When her husband finally turned to look at her, a charmingly disoriented grin on his face, Marian couldn't help but beam triumphantly back at him.

"I thought – you wanted me to make love to you," he panted hoarsely as he wrapped his arms around her and pressed a loving, grateful kiss to the top of her head.

The librarian giggled a little – _now_ he was suddenly concerned about that! "Of course I do, and I have no doubt that you still will… I just felt like reminding you that's not _all_ I know how to do anymore," she teased with a kiss to his cheek. "I didn't hear any complaints from you!"

Harold groaned, brushing his hand across his forehead. "Nor will you _ever_ , as far as that sort of thing is concerned." Taking in a deep breath and finally managing to muster up enough strength to move, he laid her back on the couch and leaned over her, letting his fingers gently brush up her sides until he reached the straps of her camisole, still dangling down her arms. "Anyway, it doesn't matter that I'll have to wait a few minutes before I can make love to you," he declared, content to take the lead once again. "It means that I have time to kiss every inch of you first."

Sighing his name, she melted willingly into his embrace, fully approving of that course of action. After finally slipping off her camisole and drawers, Harold let his gaze sweep over her naked body with such reverent awe that it was as if he was seeing her for the very first time – Marian's heart felt as though it might burst at the love that she saw in his eyes – and then, her music professor proceeded to make good on his promise.

He first pressed a series of hard, wet love-bites to her neck, and Marian was certain that he would end up leaving marks – the marks he had been so very careful to avoid a year ago on this day, she thought with amusement – but it was autumn, they would be easy enough to hide, and it simply felt too wonderful to worry much about. Then he trailed his mouth down to her breasts, eagerly attending to each tightened, highly sensitive nipple until she was arching her back and crying out for more, almost unable to endure such an excruciating torment of unfulfilled arousal. When he stopped abruptly, a ragged cry of frustration escaped her lips – but then he met her gaze with his own, and she was mesmerized to watch him kiss his way down to her stomach with passion in his eyes.

Though Marian was mostly quite pleased by the roundness of her stomach, considering the reason for it, she certainly had moments where she lapsed into doubt over whether Harold could truly consider her desirable in such a state, especially as she knew that she would only grow more and more large as the months went on. But tonight, he was making her feel just as attractive and desirable as she ever had, maybe even more, as he lavished tender kisses and caresses over her belly. The librarian let out a happy sigh and stroked her husband's hair as she looked down at him in adoration – and then, seconds later, she cried out sharply and her fingers tangled in his dark tresses as his fingers, lips and tongue found their way lower to their true destination.

He ran his fingers delicately over her slick folds and then followed that path with the tip of his tongue, lingering over the most exquisitely sensitive part of her, then teasing and tantalizing her there with little wet kisses. With a low whimper, Marian felt her hips rise up to meet him, almost unable to control her response as he slipped his fingers inside her and traced frenzied patterns against her skin with his tongue. Just as she had for him, Harold eagerly demonstrated the extensive knowledge he'd honed of how to pleasure his wife, attending to every sensitive spot she had until it was all she could do to even breathe. She had craved his touch for so many hours now that she was already teetering on the brink of release, and his skillful ministrations soon reduced her to wailing and gasping beneath him – her first climax happened so quickly that he brought her easily to another, and the librarian thought that she might lose her mind like this, wave after wave of pleasure overwhelming all of her senses until she was aware of nothing in the world but the way he was making her feel right now.

After he'd rendered her utterly incoherent with ecstasy, Marian had practically forgotten that there was still more to come, but as Harold helped her sit up again and she blinked her eyes in an attempt to remember how to focus them, she felt his erection pressing against her thigh – and, somehow, despite how intensely he had pleasured her just moments before, she still ached with a desperate need for him to make love to her as soon as possible. Biting her lip in fevered impatience, she gazed up at her husband, a question and a plea in her eyes.

As soon as their eyes met, a heated spark passed between them that was very much like what they'd experienced on the dance floor, and no words were needed to communicate what they both wanted and needed so badly. They fell effortlessly into each other's arms, tan skin against ivory, Harold easily lifting his wife up to straddle his lap while she wrapped her legs around him in return... and then, after all of their prolonged teasing, he was finally inside her, the two of them gasping in mingled relief and anticipation as their bodies came together at last, yielding to a much more intimate rhythm than that of the dance floor but one that felt just as natural to them.

Though they'd been waiting for this moment for hours, Harold kept their pace slow at first, deliberately building her pleasure with each thrust and delighting in the gradual transformation of her sighs and gasps into throaty moans. As she caught on to what he was doing, Marian calculated her own movements so she was teasing him in precisely the same way, and each time she enveloped him fully he groaned more and more harshly until he was whispering the most delightfully obscene praise for her in her ear – and though she could never quite suppress her shock at the sort of words he was willing to use at times like these, hearing him voice them with such intense ardor unfailingly sent shivery thrills up and down her spine. She was so inflamed that tonight, she did what she knew he'd always longed for her to do and, instead of responding in wordless moans, Marian pressed her lips so close to his ear that no sound could possibly escape from between the two of them, and told her husband in no uncertain terms just what was so wonderful about what he was doing to _her_ – haltingly, blushingly, she tried out a few of the words she'd learned from Harold to give voice to things she'd previously deemed unmentionable. The words sounded foreign on her lips, but also undeniably exciting, and she managed to conquer her inhibitions by keeping in mind how pleased she suspected he'd be.

Sure enough, Harold instantly groaned and pulled back to look at her, grinning brilliantly at this new development. "Why, Marian, what has gotten into you?" he exclaimed through his panting gasps.

She giggled and twirled a lock of his dark hair around her finger. "I don't know – you?"

He raised an eyebrow, his grin turning a little devious as he gave a sharp thrust into her for emphasis. "Well, _clearly_."

Marian's mouth fell open, her gasp of pleasure quickly turning to one of utter shock, and heat rushed into her face. "Oh, _no_ , I didn't mean – that wasn't – I meant your _influence_ , Harold!"

Harold kept right on smiling, obviously delighting in all of the opportunities she was giving him to shock her sensibilities a little. "That's what we're calling it now? I could have sworn I heard you call it something quite different just a few moments ago."

At first, she could only stare at him, eyes wide. His remark was unbelievably audacious, given that whispering such words in his ear had already been a risk on her part, and if they weren't currently in the midst of lovemaking it surely would have mortified her. Yet the librarian couldn't find it in herself to admonish him for it, because, though she knew she probably shouldn't, she found it genuinely _funny_. Her lower lip trembled for a few silent moments and then she broke down in a sudden fit of giggles, burying her face in his chest. Tears pricked at her eyes and then streamed down her face, her body wracked with laughter anew every time she remembered the sheer absurdity of what he had just said.

She was aware that he'd stopped all attempts at making love to her for the moment, and she felt his hearty laughter rumbling through his chest before she even heard it, yet, when she finally looked up at her husband, he was looking back at her with an expression of mock reproach, eyebrows raised, as though _she'd_ been the one whose behavior was most shocking.

"Now, then, do you think a man wants to be laughed at while he's making love to his wife?" Harold wagged a teasing finger at her and tapped her nose lightly as he spoke.

"If he makes jokes, he ought to expect it," she retorted, but she feigned a remorseful pout anyway. "I'm sorry."

His hands reaching down to cup her backside, Harold ever so slightly rocked her back and forth against him again, and they both shuddered at the renewed sensation. "I don't need you to be sorry. I just need to make sure that I don't give you anything to laugh at from here on out." Harold's expression turned intensely serious then, but with ardor, not disapproval, and the librarian grew pleasantly woozy in anticipation of what he would do next.

She did not have to wait long to find out; he lifted her up in his strong arms and laid her supine on the couch, knelt between her legs, and drew them up around his waist as he buried himself deep inside her again, both of them sighing in relief as he did so.

"So – no laughing. What _do_ you want me to do?" she whispered tremulously, transfixed by his smoldering gaze.

He let his thumb stroke right at the apex of her folds again as he began to glide in and out of her silky wetness. "Moan – scream – say my name – say the sort of thing you said to me just now," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire.

Marian did not find it even slightly challenging to fulfill that request.

There was certainly nothing for her to laugh about anymore – as Harold increased his previously languid, teasing pace, Marian was completely helpless under the onslaught of sensation, incapable of thinking of anything except the glorious immediacy of _him_ , the smoothness of his skin and his voice, the heat of his body and his words. As much as he'd purported to be completely in control, her husband was just as powerless to resist her as she was against him, and his desperate cries of love and need filled the room just as soon as hers did, the two of them urging each other on with words and actions alike and reveling in the extraordinary intimacy of experiencing each other in ways that nobody else ever could or would. Marian twisted and writhed against him, winding her legs as tightly around him as she could to draw him in deeper, watching emotion flicker across his handsome face until she couldn't possibly keep her eyes open any longer. As there had always been, ever since their first time together, there was always a moment just before reaching the height of pleasure where she doubted that anything more was even possible, that, certainly, her body could not endure any sensation more wonderful than what she was already experiencing… and then all at once she was lost to a maelstrom of pleasure intense enough to make her scream, and was assured once again that it was very real.

Another curious, delightful effect of her pregnancy was that she seemed to reach ecstasy in Harold's arms more easily than ever, and more _often_. Tonight, he managed to draw climax after climax out of her until she couldn't bear it anymore, and only then, when she sprawled on her back in dreamy satiation, did he allow himself to succumb as well. Through half-lidded eyes, she watched him as he trembled and then tensed, crying out her name as euphoria swept through his body.

When he finally collapsed along with her in blissful exhaustion, her husband was careful not to rest any of his weight on top of her, instead spooning at her side and wrapping them up in the large quilted blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch. As he pulled her in close, he rested a possessive hand on her gently rounded belly, stroking it through the soft fabric, and Marian sighed in happiness, lacing her fingers together with his. She felt pleasantly warm and sleepy, and above all, wonderfully loved – and the fluttery motions of the baby stirring within her only reminded her just how lucky she was.

She wasn't sure how many minutes had passed or if maybe she'd even dozed off in the meantime, but eventually, she heard him speak again. "You might even manage to wear _me_ out at this rate, sweetheart," he murmured.

"I don't think it can be done, darling," Marian giggled softly. "But at the very least, we'll wear each other out equally."

As she nuzzled her head into the throw pillow, though, she winced at an abrupt little stab of pain and her hand flew to her hair, the fog of sleepiness quickly falling away from her.

"What's wrong?" Harold immediately asked in alarm.

"Darn hairpin," the librarian sighed, tugging the offending pin free and stretching her arm up to drop it on the end table beside the sofa.

Kindly, her music professor sat her up to lean against his chest and took upon himself the task of removing the rest of the hairpins to avoid any further pokes, unweaving what remained of her elaborate hairdo while he did so. Marian certainly found no particular enjoyment in dealing with her own hair, but Harold relished any opportunity to run his fingers through his wife's long blonde curls, and she basked in the warm, doting affection that he communicated through his touch.

"Why, I forgot to give you your caramels," he noted suddenly. "I had intended to make a tradition of it, and I did buy them – but I must have left them up in our room."

"Then we can simply eat them in bed later. Though you've given me all manner of _sweeter_ things to hold me over in the meantime," the librarian answered, laughing. Tilting her head back with a happy sigh as his fingers gently stroked through her hair, she archly inquired, "So… if I'd been the sort of scarlet woman who'd have followed you back to your room for those caramels… would it have been like this?"

"Mmm _, yes_ ," Harold responded in an enthusiastic growl, nibbling at the place where her neck met her shoulder – and then, abruptly, he stopped, pulled back. "No." His voice was softer this time, almost surprised.

Marian smiled sweetly in understanding, clasping his hand in hers. "Not as good, right?"

He nodded, his chin resting against her shoulder. "Right. Similar in the most rudimentary of ways, but nothing more. Yes, I'd have made love to you, if one can even call it that when neither person loves the other, and I'd have made sure that you enjoyed it greatly – but not because I'd have cared how you felt, more out of courtesy in exchange for the pleasure you'd give me, and because, as you know, it's extremely enjoyable to watch one's partner in ecstasy. Ultimately, everything I'd have done would have been for myself. All taking, no giving nor sharing. And as a scarlet woman, you'd have been the exact same way, good at what you did but with no real joy in doing it, certainly no particular regard for _me_. We wouldn't have known each other in any sense, wouldn't have even tried." The music professor shook his head, openly scornful of the man that he used to be. "Sad thing is, that was the best that I could imagine for my whole life, and I never thought there could be any more to it, up until I started falling in love with you. It was only then that I started to think about things like – like finding every little sensitive place on your body and kissing you there, watching your face the whole time I make love to you and being delighted just to know that you love it, holding you afterward and telling you how much I adore you."

Harold wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, lay her gently back on the couch and leaned over her so he could gaze into her eyes while he spoke, the sincerity of his words showing plainly on his face. "Even when I kissed you for the first time, it was different. I wasn't doing it just because you were gorgeous and I wanted you – " She giggled and blushed at that, snuggling closer in his arms, and he gave her a light, tender kiss on the cheek before continuing. "It was the first time in my life that I kissed a woman because I wanted to _say_ something, wanted her to know something for which I had no words. At least, not yet, though I came to my senses and found them before it was too late, thank God. Sure, I was an experienced, jaded man of the world, but I was so ignorant. What we have now is something I never could have imagined."

Amazed and touched by how much he had revealed to her, Marian was quick to assure him that she was hardly solely responsible for their current happiness. "I couldn't have imagined it would be like this either, though," she said, reaching up to brush her hand along his cheek. "I yearned for this kind of love, this closeness and companionship, but as for actual lovemaking – or _marital relations_ , as I would have thought of it then if I'd had any reason to think of it – I'd long thought of it as something brief and embarrassing, done in the dark and under the sheets, primarily for the conception of children. I thought that kissing was for the chaste and moderate expression of affection, marital relations for necessity and, I supposed, to fulfill some inexplicable desire on the husband's part, and anything in between – well, I could not have fathomed at the time that anything could have been _in between_!"

"You're lucky you ended up with a husband who knows how to make love to you properly, then," he teased, making her laugh and then gasp with a series of kisses along the length of her neck. "But not as lucky as I am to have a wife who showed me how to be a better lover in _every_ sense of the word, just by being her sweet and wonderful self." Finally reaching her lips, he captured them in a long, lingering kiss – which was no less meaningful for the fact that it was probably the hundredth they'd shared this evening alone. "I love you, Marian."

"Mm, and I love you," she responded, kissing him back just as ardently. When they parted, though, she startled Harold by sitting up, swinging her feet to the floor, and stretching her arms behind her head.

"Where are you going?" he asked immediately, disappointment evident in his petulant tone.

Marian laughed, looking over her shoulder back at him as she wrapped the blanket around her naked body. "You must know that we can't stay here on the couch all night! Why don't I go draw us a bath – and then afterward, we can enjoy those caramels together?"

The music professor brightened, sitting up as well and enfolding her in an embrace. "Well, that sounds like a wonderful plan." Then he dropped his voice to a low, teasing drawl as he murmured in her ear, "And what do you know – the caramels ended up being a good way to lure you into the bedroom after all!"

In response, the librarian jabbed a mock-scolding finger into his arm. "I can _not_ be _lured_ , Mister Hill – " she stood up, the blanket pressed to her front but quickly falling away from her backside and leaving her half on display before him " – and if either one of us is doing any luring right now, you _know_ that it's me."

It did not take long for her point to be proven – Marian took just a few steps toward the stairs and Harold was already bounding after her the instant that he managed to throw his drawers back on. She turned to him with a sly smile, and he threw up his hands in defeat before she could say a word.

"I'm not arguing with that, Madam Librarian. I'm _perfectly_ willing to be lured anywhere that you want me."

"Of course you are," she said with a laugh, and proceeded to ascend the stairs – Harold following right behind, his fingers entwined with hers.


End file.
